


we got some work to do now

by atimi (bertee)



Category: Scooby Doo Where Are You! (TV 1969), Supernatural
Genre: Crack, F/M, Marijuana, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-08
Updated: 2009-10-08
Packaged: 2017-10-27 22:28:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/300726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bertee/pseuds/atimi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Supernatural/Scooby Doo crossover in which there is sex and an apocalypse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we got some work to do now

"It really is fascinating to have such solid confirmation that other universes exist beyond our own," Velma says in a rush, pushing her glasses up her nose. "Obviously I'm not happy about the idea of an apocalypse because, well, jinkies! But the side effects of universes merging and fiction becoming unstable is so interesting!"

"I know," Sam enthuses with a nod of his head. "Look at me and Dean. To the people who've read the books we're fictional but to us, we're real. I guess it must be the same for you."

He sits closer and spots of color appear on Velma's cheeks when their knees bump. "How did the transfer feel? Were you aware you were only two-dimensional? Or did you even know there was a third dimension in your world?" He smiles, carried away by everything. "Think what this could do to almost every physics theory in existance. Someone should write a paper-"

"If we survive," Velma points out sadly. "The chances of something being able to stop Lucifer and return our worlds to the way they were are infinitesimally small."

Her glasses slip down her nose again but something in Sam's gaze makes her take them off and set them on the table with trembling fingers. Squaring her shoulders, she reminds herself that she is Velma Dinkley and Velma Dinkley does not skirt the important issues.

That doesn't stop the butterflies in her stomach when she looks up at Sam and makes a business-like suggestion, "If the world's ending, it only stands to reason that we should make the most of it."

Sam's smile widens.

+++

"Hey."

Daphne glances up at Dean through her eyelashes. "Hi."

"Can I buy you a drink?" he offers, still having trouble getting into full flirt mode given that he's talking to an ex-cartoon character.

His flirting efforts are stalled again when Fred appears at her shoulder with an overly cheerful smile. "I'll take a soda, thank you, Dean." His arm slides around Daphne's waist in a move that doesn't go unnoticed by Dean, but he keeps the cheery grin up all the same. "I'm excited to find out what drinks here taste like!"

Some dark, horrible part of Dean which never left high school wants to introduce Fred to the taste of extra-strength laxatives, if only so he can have a moment alone with Daphne. (Or an hour or two. That could work.)

He doesn't though, Sam's lecture on needing all the allies they can get still ringing in his ears from earlier that day. He orders Fred a soda, gets a beer for himself, and is chivalrous enough to set Daphne up with some water, and they pass a long five minutes in awkward silence punctuated by slurps and swallows.

Awkward silence seems preferable right after Daphne breaks it with the suggestion, "Since we're going to be working together, maybe we should do some team-building exercises?"

"Great idea, Daphne!" Fred chimes in.

"Yeah, great," Dean contributes with markedly less excitement. "What were you planning on doing?"

"Well..." Daphne begins, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger and biting her lower lip. "I was thinking we could all have sex."

Dean stares.

Fred claps. "Great thinking, Daphne! Let's split up and search for condoms!"

Before Dean can fully process this, Fred strides off, presumably in search of condoms, while Daphne downs the rest of his beer before straddling his lap with ease. Her hand trails down his torso, slim fingers splayed over his chest, and a smile crosses her face when her hand comes to rest over the crotch of his jeans.

"Oh, jeepers..."

+++

"Just chillax, man."

Castiel frowns at the man sprawled next to him, still confused as to how he's been lured into the back of such a brightly colored van. Figuring he may as well educate the man, he corrects, "'Chillax' is not a word."

The strange, hairy man smiles beatifically at him. Castiel thinks he looks a little like Sam Winchester, if Sam Winchester's pupils were significantly larger than a normal human's.

"You need to loosen up," says the man, who Castiel thinks is named Shaggy, although he's not sure about the origins of such a name. "Go with the flow, bro."

Castiel looks around him and does not find any water sources.

"I don't see a flow," he observes and waits patiently for an explanation.

Four minutes and twenty seconds later, Shaggy's giggles die down and he gets one. "S'just an expression, man. An expression of creativity. Like love and music and pumpkins and all that shit."

Castiel harrumphs. "I should visit Dean. There is an impending apocalypse and I understand his vernacular far better than I understand yours."

"No, no, no. Wait." Shaggy pulls himself up to a sitting position with a hand on Castiel's shoulder. "Wait," he repeats. "I can show you everything you need to know. Our minds will be, like, in synch, dude. It'll be awesome."

Castiel is suspicious but Shaggy seems like a trustworthy type. "How do I gain this knowledge?"

Shaggy holds a small tube of rolled up paper to his mouth. There is a small fire at one end and what looks like parsley stuffed inside it. He wonders if Shaggy is a chef.

"Just put it to your lips and breathe in," Shaggy instructs and then demonstrates. He's a very helpful young man.

"And this will give me knowledge?"

"Totally."

Castiel thinks of Eve in the garden and how she gave into temptation and damned herself.

Then he looks back at Shaggy, decides Lucifer would never wear a shirt proclaiming "Bong hits for Jesus!", and inhales.

+++

Coming down from the high of her third orgasm, Velma decides she'd quite like a Sam Winchester in her world too.

However, as much as she's enjoying the tickling kisses he's pressing against her inner thighs and the warmth of his large hands holding her hips in place, there's an apocalypse to stop and work to be done, and she tells him as much, wriggling out of his grip to retrieve her clothes from the bed.

Her resolution to leave is not helped by Sam's mournful expression. "You want to stop?"

"No," she says with a sigh. "No, I don't want to stop. You are extremely skilled in the bedroom department and I would very much like to stay and enjoy more orgasms with you but I can't!"

Her usual frustration is rising up again and she tugs her sweater over her head before searching for her panties and skirt.

Her attempts not to look at Sam are foiled when a solid body moves in front of her and she finds herself tracking up the broad expanse of his chest and shoulders to focus on the wonderfully predatory look on his face. She's prepared to stand her ground in an argument but is caught off guard when Sam's eyes flicker down to her chest.

"Y'know, that's a really nice sweater."

"What?" she squeaks and then inwardly reprimands herself. She really shouldn't be this embarrassed in front of a guy who just did incredibly dirty things to her in his brother's bed.

"It's a nice sweater," Sam says off-handedly. "Looks good on you." And gosh darn it, the smile's back. "'Course, it looked even better off you..."

Willpower disappearing in a flash, Velma drops her sweater to the floor before he even finishes speaking.

+++

"God, yes, right there-"

Daphne arches back with a moan of pleasure as she shudders to completion against Dean's mouth. She's still breathing heavily when the three of them collapse in a loose heap on the floor, Dean next to Daphne and Fred sprawled over both of them, sated and gasping.

Dean's whole body aches and he groans in pain when he reaches over to his vibrating cell. Flipping it open, he frowns at the sight of a text message from Castiel's number.

 _the wonderpuss octopus is my new favorite aminal._

Wondering if he's experiencing some kind of post-sex hallucination, he texts back: _Cas? You okay?_

He zones out for a while but comes back to reality at the renewed sound of vibrations.

 _it is real! I saw it! it wants a waterproof vibrator. where would i purchase one?_

Dean sighs. _The wonderpuss will survive without one, Cas. Just sleep it off._

Five minutes later he gets another response.

 _THIS IS OPPRESSION OF MY CONSUMER RIGHTS!_

The only thing he's surprised at is how Cas managed to type capital letters in a text message.

+++

Two hours later, when Velma, Daphne, Fred, Shaggy and Castiel have fallen asleep on various pieces of furniture, there's a howl from the middle of the town.

The howl is followed by a growl which is followed by a bang which is followed by a "Son of a bitch!" which is followed by a "Dean!" which is followed by a bark which is followed by a howl which is followed by a growl which is followed by a bang which is followed by a "Son of a bitch!" which is followed by a "Dean!" which is followed by a bark which is followed by a whoosh, because the combatants in this fight are nothing if not repetitive when it comes to the vocal effects.

The Earth quakes briefly, the lights across the country flicker on and off, and all televisions in the area tune themselves to _Glee_ because all apocalypses need a flashy soundtrack.

There's a final whoosh and then there's silence.

The dust settles, the world takes a breath, and as the angels descend to restore order, Lucifer's lone complaint can be heard, muttered down into the bowels of the Earth.

"I'd have gotten away with it too if it wasn't for you meddling Winchesters!"


End file.
